


Dropped Calls

by Sphealrical



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Related, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Pre-Canon, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8337112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sphealrical/pseuds/Sphealrical
Summary: "Oh, how the mighty fall/Oh, how the mighty fall in love" - Fall Out Boy





	

**Author's Note:**

> I really had no idea for a plot summary other than that Fall Out Boy lyric and something about the rise and fall of Rome

At boot camp, you meet Gabriel Reyes.

The actual introduction is unassuming. You barely talk, concentrating your time into getting immersed within the armed forces. But you’re a country kid from some podunk town in Indiana, and if there’s one thing country boys know, it’s fate. And when he and you are both picked for the soldier enhancement program, the sensors start going off.

The two of you are fast friends. Turns out Combat Training bonds people through the shared misery. It’s probably why they do it to be honest.

But the enhancement program itself is a whole new brand of traumatic. It’s a lot like boot camp mixed with a hospital: hours upon hours of examinations by M.D. staff interspersed within the spirit-breaking exercise and endurance training. You and Gabriel gravitate to each other whenever possible like two sides of a magnet.

You’re not the only one who’s noticed how close you’ve gotten.

“Why are you always hanging out with Reyes?” you’re asked one day at lunch. He’s not there yet. Probably still in a med exam.

You hum and shrug in response. “Gabriel and I just kinda… click, y’know? It’s fun to hang out with him.”

The two girls across from you make eye-contact and smile. The asker seated next to you snickers as they elbow you. You know what they’re insinuating, but you let it go because you’re an adult and honestly? Two grown men can be close and not be dating.

Even though if he asked, you certainly wouldn’t say no.

You definitely say yes a few weeks later, shortly before the start of a worldwide crisis, when he does.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The both of you receive the call from the United Nations. They need as much help fighting the omnics as they can get. You’re asked to join a group of fighters with enhanced abilities called Overwatch, but only Gabriel is honored with an invitation to join the special ops unit: Blackwatch. Of course, the both of you agree.

But you and Gabriel have been together on operations since you enlisted, and the idea of being separated on missions is a little nerve-wracking.

You resist the urge to tell him so for as long as you can. But everything spills _minutes_ before he leaves for his first special ops assignment. He clicks his tongue and pulls you in to a goodbye kiss.

“We still have our personal comms. I’m just a phone call away,” he whispers against your lips. It takes a few tries before you two stay apart, and that’s only because his platoon is calling him.

Torbjorn catches you fiddling with your comm a day later.

“Just send a message, son,” he tells you good-naturedly, “nothing’s gonna make you feel better if nothing’s all you do.”

You write him off at the time, dismissing his insinuation with a joke, but a few hours later, when you catch yourself staring at your comm again, you give it a try.

** CDR MORRISON opened private chat with CDR REYES @ SUNDAY 10/12 1453 HOURS **

**CDR MORRISON:** I know you said a phone call, but what about a text?

He doesn’t reply.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When he comes back a day later, he tells you the message was sweet, but he was in the middle of an op and couldn’t answer.

You lend Torbjorn a hand in his shop later for “no reason”. From his smirk, you don’t think he believes that.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“I’m just a phone call away.”

Gabriel repeats the sentiment every time you part from the cheesy soap-opera goodbye kiss he relishes so much. By now, you’ve both been in the game long enough that you know he’s lying. _He_ knows you know that. Maybe that’s why it feels comforting anyway. Like, maybe if you _did_ call him, he’d think something like “Jack knows I’m not supposed to answer the phone during an op. Is he in trouble?” and then he’d wisp away and leave his new Blackwatch recruit in charge the way he jokes he will when he’s frustrated.

You’ve become kind of a little shit about it, though. And you’ve made it a habit to message him on your personal commlinks every Sunday, even when he’s stationed at the same base as you. Even when he’s sitting in the same bunk as you. You’ve gone as far as to set an alarm to remind you to “MESSAGE GABRIEL”.

You send whatever pops into your mind first. Random things. A small message about something stupid Lena did, or how you’re keeping the wool cap he left in your cot because finders’ keepers, Gabriel. A big message about a cool new invention Winston is working on which will supposedly give him the chance to teleport across small gaps or how you want to take him to visit your hometown and show him around the farm and introduce him to your family. He never responds because he’s on a mission, Jack, you know that.

But yesterday he was called away for an emergency op, so instead of the three nights you thought you’d be spending together, he’s in a different timezone doing God knows what. You wake up to the buzzing of your comm alarm hyper aware of how little space is taken up in your cot without him.

Your screen reads “MESSAGE GABRIEL”.

Maybe it’s too early for good judgement, but you’re cold and you’re alone, and he’s supposed to be here.

**COL MORRISON:** Te echo de menos. Te amore, Gabriel. Buena suerte en su misión.

You don’t know Spanish very well. You hope that’s right.

You realize, two minutes later, that it’s the sappiest message you’ve ever sent and immediately feel like a teenager again. You regret every decision you’ve ever made. Why the fuck can’t you delete messages?

As you’re filling in the feedback form to request adding a “delete message” feature, the commlink chimes. It surprises you. You weren’t expecting any early morning notices?

**CDR REYES:** I love you too, Jack. P.S. there’s no “e” in “amor”. You’re thinking of Italian. Te idiota.

You smile.

**CDR MORRISON:** I’m not the one sending messages on an op. That’s pretty reckless, Gabriel. What example are you setting for Jesse?

The next day, when Blackwatch returns to base, Jesse runs ahead for a high-five before his commanding officer yanks you away. You’re laughing as Gabriel drags you back to your bunker, scolding your ear off the whole time.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

There’s a grand celebration when the omnic crisis ends. The UN calls all the members of Overwatch for a special medaling ceremony.

You never asked for the promotion they surprise you with there, but you’re honored. You glow with pride for the rest of the event.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Gabriel rejects your offer to go back to your bunker. He’s tired, he says, and wants to get some sleep in his own bed for once.

“Alone,” he tacks on after a pause.

He calmly walks away before you can think of a reply other than a weak “okay”.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Something’s not right with Gabriel.

He’s distant. He purposefully avoids you when possible.

“I’m very busy,” he explains even though as his commanding officer you _know_ he has the same amount of work as during the war.

You think he might be upset that he was passed over for the promotion.

Thankfully, you’re not an insecure teenager anymore. You can tell when a man needs his space, and by God you’re not losing him because you couldn’t give him some time.

Overwatch is starting to struggle now that there’s no enemy the whole world can agree needs to be taken down. You end each day exhausted from trying to keep morale and public favor. But every Sunday, you still message him. Even when he’s still on-base. To give him an opportunity to reply when he figures everything out again.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

You don’t know where you went wrong.

Gabriel barrages you at the Swiss base. Accusations that you meant to betray him from the start. Curses because you always got to be the nice one. Because he always had to be the mean one. Because _your_ accomplishments got haloed in a spotlight when _he_ was always the one cleaning your messes.

He takes it too far. Claims you used him to get ahead while he let his guard down. How dare he? How _dare_ he?! You’ve done _everything_ you could to be supportive of him.

You scream. You scream that it killed you to put distance between you but that’s what you thought he needed. That you received an honor but instead of supporting you like he _should’ve been_ he went off to sulk in a corner. You scream “What the **_fuck,_ ** Gabriel? It was _so easy_ to be with me when _you’re_ the one on top, but as soon as I get a little recognition, suddenly I _manipulated_ you?”

“If that means anything, it means _you_ were the one using _me_ to feel better about yourself!” you scream.

You like to think he snaps because he’s just as revolted as you.

He shouts as loud as his lungs will let him, and you match it. The fight takes the both of you around the whole base. Neither of you have any destination nor idea of your surroundings, only that you have to move or the weight of the barked words biting at your ankles will trip you up, and neither of you are willing to show your stomachs about this. If anyone hears the two of you as you wander blindly through your maze of metal, they keep it to themselves.

You’re marching through another alcove when he goes too far again.

He asks if you used Spanish to make your love confession seem more believable.

You’re blinded with the sheer force of your emotions. You grab something at the table by your hip and throw it at him. He dodges it of course, you’re both-

You should have been paying closer attention. You both realize you’re in the weapons lab at the same time.

The stapler you threw bounces off the wall and hits a metal disc on the table below with a solid thunk. You’ve been in wars. You’d know that shape anywhere.

It beeps.

Gabriel’s solid body weight slams you to the ground. There’s a boom that bursts your eardrums, and the world goes white.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He saved your life that day.

The explosion took out the entire wall, bringing the roof crumbling down on the two of you. Gabriel would’ve gotten the brunt of it, but the hospital staff updating you have no idea where his body is. There was a panic when UN forces heard about the explosion, and when people panic, some things fall through the cracks.

They don’t know about the fight, and you don’t tell them.

A representative on the Overwatch case tells you that this is the best thing that could happen. Legally, Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes are dead, so they can start publicity campaigns on the heroes who died in a terroristic bombing of a UN base of operations. They can negotiate dropping some --if not _all--_ war crime charges against Overwatch, and get public opinion on their sides now that the world-wide hero Jack Morrison has been laid to rest.

The only catch is that you have to _stay_ resting. No one can know you survived the blast, or it’d ruin the whole plan.

He saved your life but only a few people will ever be allowed to know.

She steps out to take a phone call. You don’t know how long it takes for her to step back in and see that you’re gone from your bed, but you can picture the look on her face and that’s good enough for you.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

You go to the Swiss base: at night when you know they won’t be searching. You need to see it for yourself.

They weren’t lying about the damage. Only the rec and living area survived. You steer clear of the wreckage in case there are guards and find yourself in front of your bunker. If you’re gonna go into hiding for the rest of your life, you might as well pack, right?

The place is just as neat as when you left. It's surprising, to be honest. You’d think after a month between the hospital and travel, someone --maybe a news team, an enemy of Overwatch, or the UN itself-- would go through your stuff. Maybe they have. It’s not like you’d remember exactly where everything was.

As you lift your favorite jacket for appraising, your commlink falls out from a shallow pocket. You grab it before it hits the ground. You spend a few seconds turning it in your hand before you shove it into your pants’ pocket. You’re probably not supposed to bring anything that could identify you, but you don’t really care anymore. Can’t a dead man hold on to something from his old life? Ana would’ve thought so. May she rest in peace.

In the end, you take a backpack filled with clothes, money, your Government-stamped fake passport and IDs, and a few other essentials. You feel the commlink’s weight with every step.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Commercial planes take a lot longer than you remember.

You’re a couple days out from Switzerland. You know the UN’s probably still searching for you, but thankfully you were able to get your already fake IDs altered so no one can follow your papertrail.

A couple hours into your flight, a loud buzzing goes off from your person. The passenger next to you glares. They’re trying to sleep.

You fish through your pocket for the offending object and pull out your commlink.

“MESSAGE GABRIEL” flashes in bright white letters across the screen. Your hand freezes over the “Dismiss Alarm” slider.

Only for a second. People are trying to sleep, after all. But you keep your phone screen lit up, debating what you should do.

It takes you five minutes to finally settle on a decision. It’s probably not healthy but old habits die hard.

**SCDR MORRISON:** Thank you for saving me, Gabriel. I’m sorry we ended like that.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

You can’t believe your eyes.

It’s been years. _Years_ since the Swiss base. Since Operation: Legacy.

They’re both alive.

_He’s_ alive.

And after all these years, he’s still mad at you.

You’re so shocked that, if it weren’t for Ana’s help, he probably would’ve killed you.

It’s Sunday.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Gabriel!” Widow shouts at you. You look up from your meal. Her clicking heels bring her closer as she talks. “Sombra managed to get that hunk of junk up and running again. Go through it when you can and see if there’s any new intel we can use.”

You grunt, holding your hand out for the familiar rounded object. She drops it in your grip as she walks past and out of the room on some other errand of hers.

You look at the glorified walkie-talkie, rotating it in your palm. It’s been… forever since you’ve seen it. You can’t believe you used to think this kinda stuff was “ahead of its time”. You pocket it under your cloak.

You turn it on when you get back to your room. The cursed logo you used to don flashes across the screen, and you almost crush the device then and there. You won’t. Sombra would make your week hell if you did. Last time she hacked the sprinkler system to turn on every time you scanned your ID to enter a room, and _that_ was a living nightmare. You’re not gonna see what a strike 2 warrants. The commlink finishes booting up.

It immediately starts ringing like a toddler with a bell. An incessant, rapid series of clicks as it catches up with the years it’s been gone. You roll your eyes and set it down on your cot to finish up as you get ready to rest.

You pause at the doorway of your bathroom. The only internet down here should be Talon-monitored. How is it bringing up all the UN and news notifications without internet?

When you get back to your commlink, you find the answer. It can’t. But that’s not what it’s notifying you about.

** SCDR MORRISON:  ** Thank you for saving me, Gabriel. I’m sorry we ended like that.

** SCDR MORRISON:  ** The farm is just how I remember it. Couldn’t get close, since everyone’s supposed to think I’m dead.

** SCDR MORRISON: ** Still pissed that I can’t tell people the truth. You saved my life and they won’t even let me say so.

** SCDR MORRISON:  ** I can see why you love Los Angeles. The ocean is beautiful.

** SCDR MORRISON:  ** I can’t believe we thought the Toledo base was secure. No wonder Winston was always going on about quality control.

** SCDR MORRISON: ** There has to be something in one of these bases that I can use to show the world the truth.

** SCDR MORRISON:  ** We were all friends. There’s nothing we couldn’t have gotten past together.

** SCDR MORRISON: ** I miss you, Gabriel. We could’ve worked it out if it weren’t for me.

** SCDR MORRISON:  ** I made you a shrine for Dios de los Muertos. I hope I did it right. Don’t want you cursing me any more than you probably already are.

Message after message pops up on your screen. Almost 300 of them in all.

Three messages in particular catch your eye. Three much more recent weeks than the majority.

** SCDR MORRISON:  ** I really hope you just lost your comm. For you to... to have been alive this WHOLE time? Despite what you said... I don’t think you KNEW I was dead. I think you just HOPED I was dead. The Gabriel I knew wouldn’t have joined Talon. The Gabriel I loved wouldn’t have ever wanted me to see him fall so far. I know you aren’t getting these. I’ve known you too long to know how you hold grudges. You really do hate me. I get it. So if you were getting these, you’d have had your people track them by now.

** SCDR MORRISON:  ** If you are getting these... thank you.

** SCDR MORRISON:  ** We’ve been through too much together for me to not love you, Gabriel. When you’re ready, I hope you’ll let me help.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

You give Widowmaker the crushed commlink later. The raise of her delicate, unamused eyebrow is a silent question.

“Nothing but old ghosts,” you tell her. She clicks her tongue.

“Sounds right up your alley, then.”

She pivots and walks out of the room with the broken hunk of junk. You think that was a joke, but you can never tell with her.

The clicks of her heels sound final.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all can thank snacko for me actually getting this posted bc tbh I probabaly wouldn't have without their encouragement lmao. This was my first attempt at ending on a sadder note, so let me know how I did!! And please feel free to offer me possible things to tag this fic with too!
> 
> Also I have a (mostly) ovw dedicated tumblr now!! I'll be talking abt headcanons, aus, and other ovw-related stuff on mcdazzler.tumblr.com in the near-future!


End file.
